


I'm Already Someone Else's (Baby)

by Little_Knight



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Angst ish, M/M, Prom, not really they're just awkward af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Knight/pseuds/Little_Knight
Summary: You are Dave Strider and you can't believe you actually fucking showed up.





	I'm Already Someone Else's (Baby)

**Author's Note:**

> as 2018 comes to a close, and my senior year makes me more and more stressed, I have fallen back into my middle school phases to get through it all. Homestuck will always have a special place in my heart, and I missed it so god damn much. So I started rereading it and reading fanfic and the next thing I knew I was writing this.  
> I go the idea while listening to Clean Bandit and Marina and the Diamonds song "Baby", which is a bop and a half. I also got the title from there.  
> This is so trash, I'm really sorry, like i actually hate it but I can't stare at it any longer. Like they are so ooc and i've never written in second person before, but I'm honestly glad I posted for the first time in months.
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT 4/13/2019:  
> Happy 413! I went through today to edit out some mistakes because seeing homestuck update for the first time in 3 years made me emotional. Some cute info to come with this! When I made my account years ago I wanted a Karkat user but I didn't want to be overt in case I got over Homestuck, so I'm little because Karkat is small and a Knight of Blood! Clearly I'm never getting over these kids
> 
> WARNING: SUPER CHEESY

Your name is Dave Strider and you can't believe you actually fucking showed up. Shitty dance music is playing loud enough to rattle the walls of your school gym and sweaty teenagers are grinding like their lives depend on it. Somehow, it's worse than you thought it would be.

It's dark enough that you can barely tell that this is in fact your school gym, but bright enough that you can see how badly you and Terezi clash. She insisted on a turquoise dress, not caring that she can't see it, and you'd had your red suit tailor made months ago. She clings to your arm and rattles on about your cherry smell, not even trying to dance.

You tell yourself that coming to prom is totally ironic for the 5th time in as many minutes, and pretend you aren't a loser awkwardly standing at the punch bowl.

The pace of the music never lets up, early 2000's songs that none of you are old enough to remember being released, and you silently thank Terezi for being the least romantic person you know - you'd spontaneously combust if she asked you to do something as sincere as dance to this like it's the last night of your life.

"Hey coolkid, you wanna listen to me yet?" Terezi asks, finally giving up her obsessed act. 

You scoff, struggling to see her face through your dark frames, "That shit has to be earned, you don't get a Strider's attention by just existing, you gotta work for it."

You're pretty sure Terezi rolls her eyes, who even taught her to do that anyway? She lets go of your arm and starts to walk away, "I'm gonna find Karkat, let me know when you're read to be on the level of mere mortals."

You don't bother to watch her go, she's capable of getting there and back on her own.

You also pretend you don't look ten times lamer on your own than you did with Terezi hanging off of you.

"Fuck this," you mutter, rubbing at the back of your neck. Why the hell did you even show up again? It wasn't for Terezi, she doesn't want to be here either. You rub the sleeve of your suit between two fingers, remembering why you even bought the stupid thing in the first place.

Egbert's stupid face grins in your memory, buck teeth just asking to be made fun of, telling you it was the best thing he'd ever seen.

 _"C'mon Dave! Getting tailored suits for prom is_ totally  _ironic, I don't know how you're even saying no it's so ironic!"_

You don't frown at that because you don't show emotion. You don't feel pain thinking about it either, none of that pining bullshit. You've done so much pretending tonight you should be a goddamn actor at this point, fuck directing.

The music slows down, and it takes everything in you not to react to the crowd. The cluster of teenagers slow their grinding, clumsily finding their way into Middle School Position, arms around necks and waists. They sway slowly side to side, looking at their partners like they're the most beautiful thing they've ever seen. Or so you assume, you still can't see shit.

The longer you stare at the swaying crowd, the happiness that seems to be rubbed in your face, the worse you feel. Fuck Terezi, fuck prom, you're gonna go home and steal some of Bro's alcohol and play xbox for the next forever, forget about all of this. You can apologize to Terezi for abandoning her in the daylight.

You put your hands in your pockets and slouch, meandering towards the exit like you're not absconding the fuck out of there like your life depends on it. You can see the door, light shining through like god's grace is ready to take you in, you can almost taste the sweet, sweet nectar of freedom, when you feel a hand on your arm, "Dave?"

You don't lose your shit because you're too cool for that, and turn slowly. John Motherfucking Egbert is still grabbing your obnoxious red suit, dressed up in his own obnoxiously green one that you picked out for this stupid dance in the first place. He grins at you awkwardly, buck teeth hanging out over his lower lip.

"Sup," you say, nodding your head a perfectly douchey centimeter.

He giggles,  _giggles,_ and shakes his head at you. He knows you too well, knows what's going through your head (which is just a never ending stream of  _fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_ ). He knows you too well, he looks at your stupid smirk and forced casual stance and can tell you're on  _edge_.

"It's uh, fancy seeing you here," John says, grinning to get past the pain, "Nice suit."

"Likewise Egderp," you say, barely glancing at his eye searing suit.

The music has sped up again, some eurodance trash that gives you middle school flashbacks, and John finally lets go of your suit. He has the audacity to blush and he giggles again, like this isn't the worst interaction he's had all month.

"So... where's Terezi? Figured you guys would be out there giving the prom king a run for his grinding money," he laughs again, like he just can't stop himself, and runs a hand through his hair.

You stare at his hair a little, thankful for you shades for the first time all night. His hair's always been a mess, sticking up in just about a billion directions. It used to be so endearing, another flaw to love, and now you feel a little sick knowing you aren't allowed to look.

"She's around here somewhere, but you know how it is. Dave Strider is a lot of man, it's too much to handle sometimes, she needed a break from my shining charm."

God, it's all such bullshit. You know it, he knows it, the fucking chaperons eyeing you know it. John's smile drops a bit for half a second, before he's pulling it back into place, like all he wanted to do with his night is talk to his ex about his prom date.

Too thick silence envelopes you, drags you into the pits of hell and begs you to speak. So you listen. "What about you man? Did Vriska finally wear you down?"

"Oh, no," John says, getting sadder each time you open your fucking mouth, "I um, I came stag. Thought I'd put the suit to good use, ya know?"

You're both pulled right back into silence. God, why did you stop to talk to John. You should've booked it the second you saw him, screw your reputation. Instead you're standing 30 feet from the exit, mumbling your way through the worst kind of small talk.

The bass rumbles to a stop, and the sweet chords of a love song ring through the gym. The crowd repeats the slow fumble from playing grab ass with each other to swaying back and forth. John sways with them, subconsciously moving to the beat.

You look at him, really look at him, for the first time in months. He's still wearing the same glasses, and his hair is still a mess. His suit it terrible and his skin is breaking out, and he looks so good it's unfair. He's handsome, all grown up and somehow still your dorky best friend from middle school. Makes you wish all kinds of things, sappy things that can't be said out loud for fear of being genuine about something.

He looks back at you, meets your eyes for the first time all night, and asks, "Do you wanna go dance?"

He's dead serious, not pranksters gambit in sight. Just horrible, fond sincerity washing over you. He quirks the smallest smile, a sad one, and says, "You know, for old times sake?"

Fuck prom. Fuck prom, fuck Terezi for leaving you, fuck John for  _leaving_ you, fuck this stupid love song. But most of all fuck irony. You nod at him and grab his hand for the first time in months and drag him onto the dance floor like your life depends on it because it might as fucking well.

You pull John all the way into the center of the moving crowd, and pull him so close to you that you can see the green flecks in his stupidly blue eyes. You wrap your arms around his waist, and he puts his arms around your neck, and you sway like you mean it, dedicating this moment to memory.

You missed holding him.

He grabs you just as tight, head leaned back to look into your shades. The shades he bought you when you were 13 years old. As you both wear the suits you picked out for each other. Makes you wish this had been happening all night, not just a 'for old times sake' dance in the middle of what is probably the worst prom in all of prom history.

You can't sway silently like the people around you though. You're not allowed to bask in his presence. Egbert might be the love of you life, but he isn't your boyfriend. So you suck it up and try to fucking talk like a real ass adult and not the whiny preteen you feel like you are.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?" you ask, too fucking mean for real adult conversation.

But John knows you. He smiles at you, that fucking smile that won't stop attacking you every time he looks at you, and shakes his head a little. "I don't know Dave, it felt wrong to just not talk to you. You were my best friend first, ya know?"

You nod, slightly less douchey than before. He's not done, you can tell. You find yourself falling into old rhythms, reacting the way you did before. Like the way you grabbed his waist without a second thought. He was familiar, even when he wasn't supposed to be.

"And I," he bites his lip, stopping himself for a second, "I really missed you dude."

A record scratches to a stop in your head. He misses you. John Egbert misses you, misses you enough to endure the misery that is confronting your ex in the middle of prom. You miss him too, the asshole.

You allow yourself a brief second of sincerity, "Me too, man."

John's sad smile stays in place, like something from one of Karkat's shitty movies, his eyes trying to meet your through your shades. You don't give in though, your shades stay firmly in place.

The swaying never changes pace, the movement of other bodies around you refusing to let you stop. John grips you tighter, pulls you close. For a split second you think he's going to kiss you, and maybe he thought he was going to, too, but at the last second he veers to the side and plants his face in your neck.

You can feel his breath on his neck, the soft skin of his face rubbing against yours. It's too close, too much too soon, and you want to push him away. But you can't. John Egbert always has and always will have you wrapped around his little finger, even if he doesn't know it.

You're forced to readjust your arms around his waist. It's more like hugging now, the soft swaying comforting, even with the sharp elbows of gangly teenagers ramming into you every so often.

This is the longest slow dance you've ever had the displeasure of agonizing through. Egbert keeps opening his mouth against your throat, like he wants to say something, only to close his mouth again a second later. You in turn keep trying to come up with something to say, anything really, but your mouth refused to leave it's stoic line.

The singer hits a high note at the exact time that John finally says, "I'm sorry Dave."

Your forehead falls to his shoulder, "Fuck you Egbert."

You don't cry, you've never cried in your life and you won't start now. But, you'd been waiting to hear that. It's stupid, a three word sentence. But it's important to you, important for getting past this shit. It hurts more than you thought it would though, rings of finality you don't want to face.

"I mean it Dave," John says, voice cracking and tears making your neck uncomfortably damp, "I was such an asshole. And here I am, being an even bigger one and not leaving you alone."

"Cut that shit out Egbert," you say, "You're not the prom queen losing her virginity in the back of a truck, you don't get to cry tonight."

He laughs at you, sniffling through it all, "I'm trying to be serious Dave."

"So am I man, the rights to crying are reserved for Feferi tonight, and Feferi alone. If you don't stop she might come and pick a fight over the crown, and you wouldn't want to strife a lady would you? It might start a civil war in the middle of the dance floor."

"Dave!" he laughs, slapping your chest, "Stop making me laugh!"

"This isn't a laughing matter Egbert, this is very serious," you say in the most monotone voice you can pull.

He's moved away, looking at you again with those ridiculous eyes, laughter lingering on his face. You missed this, missed making him laugh until both couldn't breathe. He's still got tears in his eyes, but he's happy. That's all that matters.

"Dave?" he asks, smile slowly fading, "Can I take your shades off?"

John is the only one who's ever seen you without your shades. He's the only one who's even allowed to touch them. You couldn't say no if you wanted to. You nod.

He slowly takes one hand from your neck and reaches up to your shades, pushing them up onto your head, pushing your bangs back in the process. You blink at the sudden bright lights flashing all around you, trying to focus on Egbert. He's just staring at you, taking your face in. The hand that moved your shades is holding your cheek, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

"I've always liked your freckles," he says softly, admiring you and making your skin feel hot, "I almost wish I'd never given you those shades so I could see them more often."

"What are we doing?" you ask, not filtering your words for the first time all night.

John doesn't move his hand, if anything he pulls you closer. You can feel his breath across your mouth and nose, can count his fucking eyelashes if you wanted. He shrugs, "Catching up?"

He was right, he is an asshole. But honestly, so are you. You lean in until your noses are touching, eyes never leaving his, "That's just not fucking good enough Egbert."

"Maybe I'm trying to win you back?" he says, eyes darting between your eyes and lips, "Sweep you off your feet with my smooth dance moves."

You chuckle, forcing yourself to keep looking at his eyes, "Striders are notoriously hard to woo you know. We need to be wined and dined, the whole nine yards. I need to be treated like a motherfucking princess."

"Yeah but," he laughs too, a laugh that you can feel rumble through his chest, "I already did all that once. I was hoping for an alternative route."

Too much has happened in too little time. He's joked, cried, and flirted with you all in the span of three minutes. When will this song fucking end, when will you finally have a reason to put space between the two of you and get your head on straight.

"That's not how this works," you say, pulling back until your noses aren't touching, "If anything, you've gotta work twice as hard the second time around. Royalty don't take very kindly to indecision, and this princess doesn't want to make the same mistake twice."

John stops smiling. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, like he's trying to work up the nerve to say something. He's opening his mouth, ready to speak, when the song finally,  _finally_ , ends. You pull away, sliding your shades down. He grabs your hand, and you both get stuck in the crowd of bumping and grinding teenagers. He starts to pull you from the crowd when you hear, "There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you."

Terezi rushes up to you, grabbing a hold of your suit jacket. "Did Mr. Cool Kid decide to dance?"

You're still looking at John, whose eyes are glued to Terezi's hands on you. It's overly dramatic and too cliched for you to breathe. You give up on pretending you aren't leaving with John tonight, "Keep your hands off the merchandise TZ, this shits worth millions."

She cackles, "Yeah right, that's why you're in the middle of a grind circle."

"Dave?" John asks, tugging your hand a little.

You don't even think before saying, "See ya TZ, you can cream over my suit color later," and getting out of there fast than you can say abscond.

John is pulling you to the exit, giggling again like a goddamn school girl, and you don't even have half a mind to stop him. The chaperons at the door give you looks, the same kind they'll give Feferi and Eridan later (doesn't matter than Eridan won't actually be getting any), but you've never cared less about your reputation.

"Did you drive?" he asks, pulling you into the brisk May air.

You'll never get used to the Washington chill, shivering as you say, "Of course I fucking drove, what kind of southern gentleman would I be if I didn't drive my date?"

John snorts when you say gentleman, probably thinking of how you just abandoned your date with no way home, and starts searching for your truck. You take pity on him and drag him over to it. You have no idea what you're doing at this point, your main goal is to get out of the cold.

You're in the truck, hear blasting as John makes fun of you for being such a baby, desperately trying to find a reason to be here. John grabs your hand over the center console, like you're picking up right where you left off. He kisses the back of your hand, cheesy as always.

"This was your plan all along wasn't it?" you say, half joking, "Egbert you sly dog, dancing with me just so you could get me all alone, take advantage of me."

You're smiling, he's smiling. It's a dumb joke anyway. 

"I honestly don't know what I was planning," John says, "But I'm glad I did it."

"Yeah, yeah Egbert, keep it in your pants until we're out of the school parking lot at least," you gripe.

He pulls you close and kisses you, short and sweet, "Guess you better get us out of here before I start doing something radical, like profess my love to you."

You pull out of the parking lot before you can think about what a bad idea this is.

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh i finished, and so did you! thank you so much for reading my johndave (do people still call it hammertime?) fic, i put way more effort than it should've taken into this piece, so it means a lot that you actually finished it!  
> any form of feedback is wonderful, even if that just dropping a kudos, it's seriously my only form of motivation.
> 
> (also fef and eridan are prom king and queen bc highbloods~, eridan wouldn't be cool enough to win prom king at any american high school)  
> (thanks again for working through this)


End file.
